


so far from the stars

by sarcoline_sails



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Song: This Town (Niall Horan), i think haha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 08:31:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16014185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcoline_sails/pseuds/sarcoline_sails
Summary: Niall's missing Harry.





	so far from the stars

**Author's Note:**

> just a small little thing I wrote :)

The thrum of a successful G chord reverberates throughout the studio and I let out a small exclamation in victory. Even after years of performing with a guitar, it never failed to satisfy me when my ears caught the sonorous melody of an acoustic guitar. I cough, clear out my throat, and settle myself upon the wooden stool. And then I start to play.

A wistful sort of melody drifts from the instrument as my fingers strum a cursory rhythm. My hand glides across the fingerboard, accompanied by a small bounce of my knee to the beat. Soon, my subdued voice joins the tune of my guitar, the blended sound carrying through the room. Words spill out of my lips, a story about a childhood love and an insatiable wish. I imagine green, brilliant green eyes and brown, silky brown curls. I imagine a perfectly dimpled smile and the colors of intricate designs etched into skin. As I continue to sing I reminisce about empty fairgrounds filled with boisterous laughter and the nervous churn of my stomach as I stared into alluring emerald eyes.

I strum with more intent as I reach the bridge--confessing that, yes, I know I should be moving on, but I _can’t_ because you’re just that special--and lead myself into the chorus once more. I describe dances and highways and how everything always seems to come back to those dazzling green eyes.

Nearing the end, I softly hum my exit as the final chord thrums in the silence of my room. I open my eyes (didn’t even know I’d closed them) and gaze down at my guitar, my chest filled with a dull ache. The quiet sound of clapping startles me and I whip my head around. I sit stock-still as my heart races and my breath catches in my throat because no one else had the key but _him_ and he was long gone, but apparently not because here he was, standing in the doorway with his brown hair (now cut short) and green eyes (lively as ever) and dimpled smile (breathtakingly gorgeous) and it’s so _hard_.

“Missed you,” he rasps in that low drawl of his that’s so achingly familiar and so _homely_ and I don’t even notice that I’ve gotten up and off the stool until my face is buried in his chest and my arms are wrapped tightly around his waist and I can’t let go because then he’d be gone as quick as he’d appeared. I hear him sigh and he pulls away, placing a hand on my cheek with a sad little smile on his face.

“‘S a nice song,” he says, trying for a smile and I let out a strange mix of a laugh and a sob because that’s just so _him_ , and I’ve missed that, missed that for years now, and he’s finally back and he’s here with me, staring down with those intense emerald eyes that I’ve been enamored with since the time I’d first seen them, and I press my lips to his because it’s all I can do to keep myself from breaking again.

There are so many things I want to tell him--the things I hadn't said before, the things I need to say  _now--_ but maybe I don't have to because he just  _gets_ it, gets  _me_ , and I can feel it in the way he tenderly moves his lips against mine, pouring out an eternal and intimate reserve of raw emotion and  _yeah_ , yeah, he does get it. 


End file.
